He wondered if she knew how pretty those were – how exquisite the liquid color.
Before her last visits, he’d dropped a submersible drone into the bay and had seen her coming.
She moved like a piece of wet silk through the water. Trails of the sea bubbled by in flickers that clung to her body, shreds of gemlike luminescence. Glimpses of breast and the swirling fan of dark red hair on her naked back. The undulations of her body made a liquified burlesque.
Startling. Sensual. A personification of lust.
His eyes had been open, fixed on the small cellphone screen. Absorbed, he’d almost missed looking up when she surfaced below him.
Nothing had recorded – he’d seen it, but it wasn’t there. No video. No images. Nothing left on his cellphone except empty ocean. And he’d still wanted to kill her for what had been done to Merrick. Desire did not cancel hate.
He came back to the present. Grimaced at his reaction below. Down, dick. I command you, not the other way around.
“Why don’t we see skeletons? Dead mer… folk or whatever you are? Is it magic?”
She shook her head and silver-hued tears slipped from the corners of her eyes.
Unhappy? Join the club. She probably didn’t know the answer.
Wolfgang shook his head.
Did they turn into seaweed when dead? Convenient, if he were the sort who could kill her. He’d kept her asleep all day, waiting to see if that wacky folk tale were true, and had spent half those hours looking at her curled up in his sheets.
As a mermaid, underwater, she was art nouveau in motion, skin and gleaming scales and flowing hair swathed in moonlight and sea.
As a woman in his tousled sheets, she was kissable, bitable curves, her breasts tipped by soft peach-pink areolae. He’d lusted after sticking clamps on those to hear her squeals. With her legs bent high as they were, when he’d inched away the sheet, the slit of her pretty cunt showed below. Slightly swollen and with wetness glistening on the lips from their lovemaking. Tempting enough to make him stare.
Nubile, he would’ve thought her, as he slid his dick inside her, if she were a normal female bedmate.
And if she wasn’t hundreds of years old.
Fuck this remembering her being sexy. She was here, swinging. Hooked.
Naked.
Together, he and Merrick had shared girls, upside down, tied up, doing things to them—
He squashed the painful memory, squeezed his eyes, shut, open. Not the same torturing a mermaid though, was it?
“Can you prove you were once a human or did you lie to me? Are you just a monster?” he rasped. Could I prove it with tests? “Crap,” he muttered. This was his research field, and here was a perfectly fine new species. But he couldn’t show her to anyone else, could he?
Not because of any moralistic fanciness. And not to spare her the scrutiny.
No. It was because he didn’t want to.
Because if anyone else knew she existed it would limit what he could do to her. His cock hardened just thinking of the possibilities. He eyed the hook, the length of her and began to wonder all sorts of things…
He’d simply meant to torture her, sick man that he was. Revenge. Imagining things didn’t always equal reality.
Could not. Do it. Sorry, Merrick.
Would he begrudge me thinking what I am thinking? Probably not. The man was, had been, a lecher of huge proportions. Wolfgang sighed then rested his chin on the hand bearing the knife.
This would be apt. She sang to men, then sucked them to their deaths. Sucked them off, to their deaths, even, maybe. He leaned in and stretched out his arm, inserted his fingers in the hole in the gag though she grimaced and tried to duck away.
Maybe he couldn’t torture her to death but fucking her was not out. Studying her. While he fucked her.
“Lick. Or else this.” He waved the knife. A little terror, Merrick? Just a little for revenge. She’d done bad things, so some repayment was in order.
When she tentatively began to lick at his fingers, he stared some more, feeling his cock grow harder, lengthen, push at his pants. He slid the knife across the floor to the side then put his unoccupied hand to her throat, grasped her there while she licked, her eyes fastened on him.
“Are you getting a stir of something? What if I give you cock instead of knife?”
Her tongue stilled, and she curved her neck. He would swear her eyes had widened.
Mermaids loved fucking men, though normally they did it for bad reasons, from what this Raffaela had said. What if… All in the name of research, he let his throat-hand run over her neck skin then up to her breasts, curved it around one and held her there, watching her as he began to play gently with her petal-soft nipple.
Her reactions, the subtle wriggles and gasps, amused him.
“Keep going,” he said, guttural, thick. This was pretty depraved, but he was past wondering what he was doing. Not torturing her, that was surely a plus?
What she’d told him at the beach could be lies. Facts were better. Human hybrid, or animal, or monster, he was still wondering which she was as he shifted and craned forward, to place his mouth over the center of her other plump breast.
His tongue followed her skin, circling, feeling the pop of her nipple erecting, and hearing a soft moan break from her mouth.
Mermaids had a thing for men, according to legend. A weakness for them.
He swirled his tongue over her now button-hard nipple then sucked, repeatedly, listening to her, feeling her body sway and arch, just a little.
The two of them were doing the most erotic of acts while she hung head-down, hooked by the tail. That had to hurt. This was damn crazy. Hand going up past her hip, he felt for her ass, only to remember she did not currently possess one. Not a human one.
Except, he felt a strangeness, a shifting, a change of whatever one might call mermaid flesh, and ass was under his hand. A fat handful of gorgeous ass on a moaning girl. He left this newly found ass, slid hand over her hip to her mound, to slide and search between her thighs, to slip along her cleft, and to stick a finger into that recently nonexistent cunt.
In… Deep…
And a miracle just when he needed one.
Sopping wet. What else on a mermaid? Her weight slewed, lopsided. She half fell, shrieking, but he caught her as he stood.
Amazed, he looked past the curve of hips and heaving taut belly, to legs. Of course there were legs. Two of, and the hook was now piercing through at her ankle.
Between the Achilles and bone, he told himself. The sight of that. He sucked on his bottom lip, wincing. Ouch, but she could take it.
She’d transformed, like any self-respecting mermaid would when prey was near and about to be fucked and killed by her. Wolfgang couldn’t help the mild curve of his mouth. This was a bizarre, macabre event.
Man, if only he could record what he intended to do next. Still supporting her body, he unzipped and pulled out his rather magnificent erection. Much harder than the night before. That had been a chore. This was far more… fun.
Revenge fucking. If she tried to bite off his dick, she’d find it impossible.
“Keep that mouth open,” he grated out. As if anything else was doable.
He could feel the rise and fall of her chest, see the puckering of her nipples, and the flush of pinkness spreading over her skin at chest and stomach – was the flush a sexual sign? He’d never seen anything that obvious on a girl. When his fingers traced up her thighs, he felt hints of where scales had been. Bluish imprints shimmered under the artificial lights.